


Role Reversal

by RandomSlasher (Randomslasher)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Platonic Moxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomslasher/pseuds/RandomSlasher
Summary: Virgil helps Patton after a nightmare. Platonic Moxiety





	Role Reversal

It was very late--or to be accurate, very early--when Virgil heard the noises coming from Patton’s room. 

He’d been heading back from the kitchen, where he’d fumbled in the dark for a glass of water, not wanting the light to wake anyone. At first, as he passed Patton’s room, he wondered if he’d been too noisy after all.

But after a moment, Virgil realized the small, distressed noises he was hearing weren’t coming from a Patton awakened by someone fumbling blindly in the kitchen or shutting a cabinet a little too hard. In fact, he would bet good money (if he had use for that sort of thing) that the moral side wasn’t awake at all. Those whimpers were familiar and unmistakable: how many times had he awakened himself by making the exact same sounds? 

The conclusion was as unavoidable as it was distressing. Patton was having a nightmare. 

Virgil hesitated for only a moment before pushing the moral side’s door open slightly and peering inside. 

Patton’s room wasn’t dark--it never was, not completely, because Patton hung fairy lights from the ceiling. Virgil had always assumed they were there for purely aesthetic purposes, but he’d always appreciated the faint warm glow, when he’d crawled into Patton’s bed after a nightmare. 

Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if Patton needed his own light against the darkness. 

Patton was sprawled on his back, arms flung out like usual. But he’d kicked aside his blankets, and even across the room and in the dim, Virgil could tell he was shivering. As he watched, Patton rolled onto his side, whimpering again, and this time, instead of just fear, Virgil thought he heard his own name. 

“...’rgil,” Patton mumbled. “No...don’t. Don’t. Please.” 

Virgil’s heart dropped into his stomach like a lead weight. He stepped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and moved into the room quietly, approaching the bed with care. 

He was careful not to get too close. If Patton was having a nightmare about him (and oh, god, if that thought didn’t send shame and guilt and horror clawing their way up his throat) then seeing him too near upon waking might do him more harm than good. 

But Virgil would be damned if he’d keep hurting Patton, even in his dreams. 

“Patton,” he said,coming to a stop a few paces away from the bed--far enough that if Patton’s first instinct upon waking was to fight back, Virgil could dart away. “Patton! Wake up.” 

“Virgil...” Tears slipped from beneath Patton’s closed eyelids. “Virgil, _no_...” 

“Patton!” 

Patton gasped, and heaved himself upright, uttering a small, terrified cry of, “No!”

Virgil took a step backward, holding up his hands. “Patton, it’s okay,” he croaked. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re in your room, and I’m not...” he trailed off for a second and swallowed the lump in his throat. “No one’s gonna hurt you.” 

Patton had whirled to stare at him as he spoke, wide-eyed and tense, and for a second Virgil thought he might have to make a run for it after all.

But when Patton spoke his name again, it wasn’t in hatred or fear. Instead, it was in a tiny voice that quavered and cracked on the second syllable. 

“Virgil?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said softly, wishing he could just go hug Patton the way Patton always did for him. But then, he was never having nightmares about Patton hurting him, was he? “It’s okay. You’re safe now, I promise. Do you...” he paused. “Do you want me to go get one of the others for you...?” 

But Patton was scrambling off the bed, breath hitching in soft little almost-sobs, and before Virgil could do more than tense up, Patton launched himself at him. But it wasn’t an attack: the moral side flung his arms around Virgil’s shoulders and burrowed his face into his neck, sobbing and shaking. 

Virgil was startled, but he instantly wrapped his arms around Patton’s back, then tightened them convulsively when he felt the wet of Patton’s tears against his neck. 

“Oh god, Virge, oh my _god_ ,” Patton choked between his sobs, and Virgil cringed, hugging him harder. 

“I’m...sorry,” he offered, unsure of what else to say. He didn’t really want to ask what he’d been doing to Patton in his nightmare--it was obviously pretty bad--but Patton was always, _always_  willing to listen to him, and it was only fair that he do the same, wasn’t it? 

“Do...do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment. 

Patton drew a deep breath, then another, his sobs stilling a little. But he didn’t let go of Virgil. Instead, he burrowed in closer, fingers clutching at the back of Virgil’s hoodie. 

“It...it was awful,” he whispered, and Virgil closed his eyes, bracing himself. 

But when Patton spoke again, he just said, “Virgil...I...I just want you to know if...if anything ever happened to you...I...I’d...” his voice choked again and he sobbed anew, clutching Virgil harder. 

Virgil was too stunned to reply for a moment. When he finally could speak, he uttered, “I’m...I...nothing’s gonna happen to me. Pat?” 

Patton shook his head against Virgil’s shoulder and drew a deep breath, releasing it on a shuddery sigh. But some of the tension seemed to leave his body as he did so, and his grip on Virgil became a little less desperate. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “God, I hate those dreams.” 

Virgil still didn’t quite understand, but he got the feeling Patton wasn’t exactly eager to talk about it. He wouldn’t press him. 

But he was wrong again, because Patton said, voice soft and filled with sorrow: “I get them at least once a month. Sometimes more. One of you, or sometimes all of you, or Thomas, or Thomas’s friends...you’re hurt, or suffering, or _dying_ , and I...I can’t get to you. No matter what I _do_ , I can’t...and you...” 

It finally clicked, and Virgil drew away far enough to look Patton in the face. His own eyes were impossibly wide, as he stared into Patton’s red-rimmed ones, still leaking tears down his freckled cheeks.

“You...you were dreaming something bad was happening _to_  me?” he said. 

Patton shrugged, and nodded. “Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

And...come to think of it, maybe it was. Patton was Thomas’s morality, but he was also his heart and soul, and in a lot of ways, his _love_. And what did love fear more than losing those it cherishes? 

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, and the horrible leaden weight in his stomach melted away, leaving him feeling unaccountably light as he realized this meant Patton counted him among those so cherished.

He reached up and cupped Patton’s cheeks between his hands, wiping away his tears with his thumbs, and offering him a tiny, shy smile. When Patton smiled back, Virgil leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. 

“For what?” 

Virgil shrugged, a little embarrassed. “For...for worrying about me, I guess.” _For caring enough to worry at all._

Patton blinked, but nodded after a moment. “Of course,” he said. “God, Virgil...of _course_.” He leaned forward and kissed Virgil’s cheek, wrapping his arms around him again and just holding him for several long moments. 

“Pat?” Virgil finally murmured. “Do you...do you want me to stay here with you?” 

Patton shivered. “Please?” 

Virgil nodded immediately, and guided Patton back to his bed. He took a moment to straighten the tangle of sheets and blankets, stretching and smoothing them back over the mattress, then waited until Patton clambered up before climbing up after him. 

Patton settled onto his back and opened his arms, inviting Virgil to take his usual post-nightmare position: his head on Patton’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, his arm draped over Patton’s waist, Patton’s fingers carding soothingly through his hair. And Virgil very nearly did; the position was nothing if not comforting. 

But then he paused. It _was_  comforting, yes--after _Virgil’s_ nightmare. And this time, Patton was the one who needed comfort.

Patton’s face registered surprise when Virgil lay down on his back and reached out, opening his arms to Patton instead. For an anxious moment, the moral side didn’t move, and Virgil worried his idea had been stupid after all.

But then Patton’s expression melted from surprise to awe and something very young and vulnerable, and he crawled forward, curling in against Virgil’s body and resting his head tentatively on Virgil’s chest. Virgil reached up and began stroking Patton’s hair, and felt Patton’s shaky sigh skitter across his collar bone as the moral side’s arm secured itself around Virgil’s waist. 

“Thank you,” Patton whispered, and Virgil tipped his head down to press a firm kiss to Patton’s head. 

“Of course,” he murmured. “Sleep, Patton. I’ll wake you if the nightmares come back.” 

But they didn’t. Patton drifted back to sleep, his breathing evening out and growing steady again, and Virgil continued to stroke his hair gently until it did. 

Morning found them both asleep, still tangled in one another’s arms.


End file.
